


Fuck-It-Up Like Free

by PAPERSK1N



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Athletes, Fame, Fluff, Footballer!Gavin, Gavin is an asshole, Little bit of angst, Loneliness, M/M, Mavin, Michael also quickly becomes a fan for one specific reason., Soccer Player Gavin, Soccer!au, background raywood, but it's just background, geoff is the manager, michael likes it, or football as Gavin and I would call it, superfan Ray, there's also a dash of raywood, you can guess what
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 16:29:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6863059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PAPERSK1N/pseuds/PAPERSK1N
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael and Ray are best friends, and despite his refusal to contribute towards any hispanic stereotypes, Ray has a soft spot for soccer. He drags Michael along to the first game of the season, where immediately his eye is drawn by the new team striker- freshly transferred from England: Gavin Free.</p><p>Gavin Free is sort of an asshole. Michael is sort of into it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 0-0

Chapter One:

 

 

Ray was always the guy to never play up to stupid Hispanic stereotypes. In Michael’s experience, Ray was the pastiest Puerto Rican ever, he hated spicy foods and he couldn’t dance for shit. He didn’t speak a lick of Spanish past a very Americanised “ _Hola!”_ and ate _Pizza Rolls_ more often than he did quesadilla.

So why he was so fucking interested in Soccer, Michael would never understand. Ray wasn’t even sporty himself, way more likely to be seen holed up in his apartment playing on his Xbox rather than out on greenery of any kind. Michael had never even seen the dude hold a fucking ball. However, Ray was his best friend and didn’t have many others, so Michael was the one who got dragged out to Ray’s team’s first game of the soccer season.

The Red Bull arena, home of the New York Red Bulls was really just a commercial piece of shit building funded by a horrifically unhealthy energy drink that Michael couldn’t stop himself from consuming. The team was okay, they weren’t LA Galaxy or anything (a team that was supposedly good, according to Ray) but they weren’t too awful either.

The arena wasn’t packed as the first game commenced, and Michael watched uninterestedly as the players made their way out onto the field, lined up and sung the national anthem off key, before jogging to their places in their red shirts and their nylon shorts.

“Dude,” Ray pointed out to the field. “That’s our new transfer. Hopefully he’s really gonna help us get through this season better than last years.”

Michael squinted, scanning the field for whoever-the-fuck it was Ray was talking about. “Where?” he asked. The whole team was, to him, a murky sea of red and white kit- players only distinguishable by their varying dramatic hairstyles. None of them seemed particularly remarkable to him, so he frowned as Ray bounced in his fold-up plastic seat excitedly.

“He’s from England- soccer’s huge out there.” Ray explained, not tearing his eyes from the pitch. “But, we broke the bank and bought him from his home team. He’s called Free- Gavin Free.” He pointed again. “Number 10.”

Michael followed the line of Ray’s finger to the back of a red shirt, the number ten in big white letters with ‘ _Free’_ written in block capitals across the wearer’s shoulder blades. As Michael spotted him he turned, almost as if he could sense the fact that he was being watched and when he looked over in their general direction, Michael’s breath hitched.

Gavin Free wasn’t a pasty English guy with dark hair and short, stout limbs.

Gavin Free was _tanned_ for starters which threw him off. In Michael’s experience, English people were pale and they burned in a lick of sunlight, just like he did. But no- Gavin Free had brown hair that sparkled in the winter sun and pretty green eyes and a casual sort of smirk on his face as it blew up on the big screen and he stood, face to face with the opposing team captain.

When Free turned, eyes cast briefly back to the bleachers Michael could’ve sworn his gaze was aimed right at him. It was brief, but it was real- Gavin Free’s pretty green eyes shot him like a bullet, making a collapsing weight settle on his chest and hold him to his seat. Ray just stared from beside him with a wicked smirk.

 “Alright, I’m not taking you to games if you’re just gonna drool at the new player the whole time.”

“No, no- I’m interested in Soccer!” Michael shrugged. It was a pathetic excuse, but he knew better than to try and lie to Ray- his oldest friend. They knew each other far too well for lying. Ray didn’t say anything else, and Michael leant forwards in his seat as the whistle blew and the game began- number ten darting down the pitch. He leant forwards in his seat as from that moment on, his eyes were fixated on the number 10 shirt.

“Oh, and by the way-” Ray leant over to speak lowly, right in his ear with a dark sparkle in his eye. “Keep your pants firmly zipped until you get into the comfort of your own apartment.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

By the time Gavin had sent a few balls sailing into the white net, Michael was starting to understand where this apparent Latino obsession with football came from. It was an atmosphere in the stadium he’d never felt with any other sport, fans genuinely passionate about the game rather than the fanfare. There was no halftime show, no cheerleaders and confetti cannons or elaborate bands. Just the game, a short break, and then more of the game. It was fast paced, like basketball, but didn’t stop every five minutes to reset. Ninety minutes flew by in a blur of red and white, and by the time the final whistle blew the Red Bulls had won, four to zero- or _nil_ as Ray called it.

“Come _on_.” Ray tugged at Michael’s wrist as they headed around the back of the stadium where a small group of soccer fans were gathered with signs and autograph books waiting for the players to file out. “I wanna at least see the team after their first game and congratulate fucking _someone_. We haven’t had a game like that in a long fucking time.”

“I guess Gavin Free just has that magic touch.” Michael said with a smirk. Ray scoffed, folding his arms across his chest.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Ray glared at his best friend. “Just figures, I take you to a soccer game and you fall in love with a player. Nice one, dude.”

“Shut up, I’m not in love with him.” Michael argued. “I just think he seems cool, that’s all. I’ll probably never fucking see him or talk to him in real life. Or even if I do, he’ll never remember me and I’ll never exist in his little world. It’s no big deal.”

“Never say never.” Ray nudged him with a grin, just as the players filed out, one by one. They signed autograph books and took countless photos, particularly Gavin- the hot new player that everyone seemingly wanted a chance to touch. Ray teased that he’d call the new Brit over for a selfie if Michael really begged him. Michael’s response was to elbow Ray sharply in the ribs until he wheezed.

By the time the players made their way over to where Michael and Ray were standing, Gavin Free was heading into the back of a sleek black car. Ray was distracted by a different player, nodding and smiling as Ray congratulated him, so he didn’t notice the way Gavin Free scanned the crowd with an odd curiosity, before his eyes fell on Michael again.

He grinned, winked and then turned away, slipping into the back of the car and being driven away before Michael even had the chance to wave.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It turned out, that Gavin Free was actually a giant asshole- and Michael was super into it. He accompanied Ray to every game for the next few weeks, not just due to his sudden infatuation. It was a mix of having the hots for Gavin Free and being genuinely interested in the sport. He’d sat up for hours googling and youtubing famous soccer moments and lingo and the way the game worked. When he correctly relayed the coveted _off_ - _side_ rule, Ray actually looked proud.

Over the next three games, Gavin Free continued to be a tease. He looked across into Michael and Ray’s usual spot at the start of every game and every time without fail, he would make direct eye contact. Sometimes he’d smile and occasionally he’d wink, but it didn’t go much further than that. Once the starting whistle went, he was focused on the game and approximately nothing else- not even Michael.

Occasionally, if Michael could convince Ray to wait outside the players exit, Gavin would catch his eyes again and grin or wink. It was odd, to Michael, how easily a stranger could make him blush. Apart from their prolonged eye contact and occasional smile, they hadn’t even spoken. Gavin Free didn’t even know his name and he already had him under his thumb.

 It wasn’t until after the fourth game of the season, stood outside in the cool February air that Gavin approached him. It was Valentine’s Day. An odd day to schedule a game, sure- but neither Ray nor Michael were in a relationship so it didn’t inconvenience them in the slightest.

Gavin Free walked right up to the barriers separating the crowd from the players after his usual rounds of photos and autographs. He walked right up to Michael, and stood toe-to-toe with him and smiled. Not like an _I’m-so-excited-to-finally-talk-to-you_ smile, more of a lazy _I-couldn’t-give-a-shit-but-I-know-you-love-it_ smirk. It was infuriatingly attractive.

“Football fan?” he asked.

Michael wrinkled his nose. “Football? Nah. Soccer’s pretty alright though.”

Gavin laughed at that, head tilted back in casual amusement. The people around them were talking excitedly at the prospects of _the Gavin Free_ standing barely a few feet from them. Gavin smiled briefly at them all, basking nonchalantly in the fleeting glory of his adoring fans.

“I’m Gavin.”

“I know.” Michael bit his lip furiously as soon as he said it, cheeks burning red in the cold. Gavin only grinned at him. “And your name is?” he asked.

“Michael. Michael Jones.”

“Bit crowded here, Michael Jones.” Gavin said, rolling Michael’s name off his tongue like it was as sweet as the honey he probably stirred into his fucking _tea_ or whatever it was British people drank for fun. He was the essence of _cool_ , hands tucked away into the pockets of his tiny shorts, shoulders thrown back and head tilted up confidently. “You should meet me somewhere, maybe one evening?”

“Yeah?” Despite his pathetic attempt at remaining nonchalant Michael nodded like a flabbergasted child who had just been asked if he wanted to go to Disneyland. He was more or less speechless, nodding like a fucking moron as Gavin Free slowly won him over with barely a flash of pearly white straight teeth.

“Here.” Then, Gavin’s hand had been extended to his and hesitantly, Michael leant forwards to accept the limp handshake. His confusion dissolved when he felt a piece of paper slip into his hand. Gavin didn’t say anything else- only grinned, and let his hand drop back to his side. He left Michael with a wink, before he turned and disappeared back into the crowd.

Ray pulled him out of the group of fans, to the busy street outside the stadium. “Dude, come on- the romantic tension is killing me.” He teased. “What’d he say to you?”

Michael unfolded the paper in his hands and smiled to himself.

 

 

_518-293_

_Happy Valentines Day – Gav x_

 

 


	2. 1-0

Chapter Two

 

 

 

“No fucking way!” Ray laughed brashly as he lounged on their couch, Xbox controller in hand. “He gave you his fucking number? On _Valentine’s_ Day?  You couldn’t _write_ that shit.” He continued to laugh and simultaneously beat Michael’s proverbial ass in whatever stupid indie game he’d forced them to play.

Michael ignored Ray’s teasing and his thrashing, barely paying much attention to the 2D Side-Scroller as his thoughts drifted to Gavin and the way he had grinned, so fucking cocksure and proud as he slipped his number into Michael’s hand.

He should’ve thrown it out. Gavin Free was clearly an arrogant, stuck-up asshole with a complex. He should’ve crumpled the white paper in his hand and tossed it in the nearest trashcan. But- he hadn’t done that, instead he’d kept it sitting in his pocket for the next two days until he worked up the courage to tell his _best friend_ and roommate about the entire exchange.

“He said he wanted to talk somewhere less crowded.” Michael stroked the paper softly with his thumb, careful not to smudge the scrawled digits. He’d already saved the number in his phone as a precaution in case he lost the paper or it got ruined, but something stupid and sentimentality-field kept him shielding the scrappy note from harm. “I don’t know.” He groaned. “Do you think I should I call him?”

“ _Should I call him_?!” Ray scoffed, fingers flying across the buttons on his controller without looking away from the television screen. “Dude, you’ve only been pining over him for four fucking games. And _then_ \- like a fucking movie he actually gave you his number on _valentine’s day_. Of _course_ you should call him!” for emphasis, he jabbed Michael with the tip of his toe fairly forcefully, distracting him from the game for little more than second so Michael could actually score a few points.

“That’s cheating!” Ray glared, kicking him again. “Leave me to play alone. Go call your fucking famous athlete boyfriend.”

Ray wasn’t looking (or at least, he hoped Ray wasn’t looking) so Michael allowed himself to grin widely as excitement bubbled in his gut. “Alright, alright,” he tried to keep his voice nonchalant. “I’ll call him. Whatever.”

 

* * *

 

 

Gavin asked to meet him in a dive bar deep downtown in the scummy hipster side of New York that Michael despised, but he supposed it was a place he could go to where he could remain unrecognised and inconspicuous. Gavin was nowhere to be seen when he entered the bar, so he took a barstool and settled at the bar, ordering a beer.

One beer turned into two, and by the time half an hour had passed- Michael felt the stinging feeling that he had, in fact, been stood up.

It was a shitty feeling, and suddenly the bar felt smaller. Like every pair of eyes in the room were on him, wondering why he’d come in and sat at the bar only to order two beers for himself to drink whilst texting when he could do it for a lot cheaper at home.

As if _Gavin Free_ had actually been interested in him enough to step outside of his perfect fucking life and try things on from Michael’s perspective. Defeated, agitated and maybe just a little bit upset- Michael pulled out his phone and began drawing up a furious text to Ray, cursing both him and Gavin-Asshole-Free’s entire existence.

“You alright, boi?”

Michael turned, torn between relieved and furious when he was met with Gavin’s smiling face as the Brit slipped off the stupid mirrored sunglasses he’d apparently worn in. He wanted to be angry- but _fuck,_ Gavin’s dopey expression made it so easy not to be.

“You’re late.”

Gavin’s way of apologising was to give Michael a small shrug and a smile before calling over the bartender and ordering two Irish car-bombs and another round of beers. The bartender set to work making their drinks, just as Gavin turned to grin at Michael’s perplexed expression.

“Don’t worry- drinks are on me tonight.” He shrugged.

“That’s it?” Michael asked with a flabbergasted laugh. “Just-” he imitated Gavin’s nonchalant expression and shrug mockingly, but the player didn’t seem to hurt by it and laughed, picking up the cold beer that was set in front of him by the bartender.

“I fell asleep.” He took a sip as two Irish car-bombs were set in front of them. “I was kind of nervous about coming here and I thought a nap would chill me out.”

“ _You_ were nervous?” Michael asked incredulously, eyebrows skyrocketing to his hairline. In his opinion, Gavin Free didn’t look like the kind of smug douchebag who got nervous very often. However, he nodded and took another shaky sip of his beer. “Well- _yeah_. I thought you wasn’t going to show up or that you didn’t want to hang out with me or whatever.”

“You’re an idiot.” Michael shook his head, and before he could resist, a fond smile settled on his lips. It didn’t matter how much he wanted to fight it. Gavin Free had, predictably, won him over completely. “But whatever,” he settled for, picking up the Irish car-bomb that Gavin had ordered and nodded for the Brit to do the same. “We’re both here now.” He shrugged.

“Exactly.” Gavin toasted his glass against Michael’s and smiled. “Here’s to two bois- hanging out.”

“Boys?” Michael’s voice broke slightly as the harsh liquor slipped down his throat and ignited the dull beer burn in his gut. “Well… yeah-” Gavin laughed. “You’re my boi now, aren’t you?”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Michael laughed loudly. “I’m your _boi_?” he imitated. “What the fuck dude? Is that British for something weird?”

“Well… it means we’re mates, doesn’t it? Friends, even.” Gavin’s teasing smile remained spread on his lips, but in his eyes, Michael saw the faintest shimmer of anxiety as he took a heavy gulp of his drink. His hard expression softened immediately.

“Yeah, we are.” Michael nodded, certainly. As predicted, Gavin relaxed immediately and an excited sparkle completely overtook the anxious roundness of his eyes. Despite himself, Michael couldn’t help but smile widely back at the moron as he went back to sipping from his beer again.

“You know,” he patted Gavin’s back as he choked over the bitter taste. “I thought you were a bit of an asshole at first…” he continued, with a laugh. “But you’re alright. So… yeah- we can be boi’s or whatever.”

He didn’t think he’d ever made someone look so fucking _happy_.

 

* * *

 

 

 

Over the course of the next few weeks, the pair texted and talked most nights. They exchanged Gamer Tags and played together over Xbox live. Countless nights of Michael screaming and laughing at Gavin down his headset as Ray sat on the other end of the couch with pizza texting and glaring at him.

After Gavin’s next game, the player invited him for a ‘kick-about’ in some tiny park on the edge of the city. Michael had mastered the perfect balance of interested complaining- because although he had no interest in attempting to actually play soccer, hanging out with Gavin was much more of a bonus.

So there he was, dressed in sweatpants and a thousand other flexible layers to protect his body from the March air. Gavin however had his skinny bare legs out and braved to the cold with knee length socks and tiny white football shorts, a sweatshirt thrown over what he assumed was Gavin’s kit shirt and a red sweatband around his head, pushing his hair backwards.

He looked like the most adorable pretentious asshole Michael had ever seen.

“You’re not freezing cold?” he asked, watching Gavin kick the ball up between his own feet. It bounced off each ankle almost rhythmically, Gavin’s quiet counting under his breath never broken even as he shook his head in response to Michael’s question.

“I’m fucking freezing.” Michael rubbed his covered arms. They were just lucky the worst of the New York winter snow was over as the Spring crept in.

“Back in England, it’s cold like this for almost half of the year. You kind of get used to it, growing up kicking a ball around a freezing pitch your whole life.” Gavin explained, kicking the ball over to Michael, who missed it by a mile. Gavin laughed softly as Michael chased after the ball, gathering it between his feet and kicking it back.

He was uncoordinated at best, having never really been interested in soccer growing up, but Gavin’s feet were practically magnetic to the tight leather and somehow the ball flew to his outstretched foot, before being kicked in the air and back around his shins. Gavin never lost contact for a minute, until he kicked the ball up behind him and caught it in the arch of his back, arms bent like chicken wings.

Michael laughed at him. “Now you’re just showing off.” He bent over, catching his breath back. It was surprising and embarrassing how quickly he’d gotten tired from running after a ball. Gavin grinned at him, standing straight so the ball fell back to his feet.

“Have you ever even played soccer, Michael?” he asked. Michael felt his cheeks tinge with a slight blush, but he wasn’t sure why he was so embarrassed. He shook his head.

“Didn’t think so,” Gavin smiled. “But don’t worry. We’re mates now, right?” he asked. Michael nodded. “Cool. I’ll teach you a few things.”

Michael had a good idea of some things Gavin could teach him but the thoughts alone made his cheek heat up more so. Thankfully, Gavin didn’t notice, too busy pulling plastic cones out of his bag and arranging them in a straight line.

“Skill one-” he announced. “Dribbling.”

“Cool.” Michael nodded. Hopefully he wouldn’t dribble all over himself thinking about Gavin teaching him more than just soccer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos + Comments always appreciated!


	3. 1-1

Chapter Three

 

 

 

_From: Ray_

_Dude what the fuck???? I hope you’d tell me if you were actually dating him for reals… ;)_

[ _http://www.TheKnow.TV/Gavin-Free-Spotted-With-Mystery-Man/e8hr-wm29.com_ ](http://www.TheKnow.TV/Gavin-Free-Spotted-With-Mystery-Man/e8hr-wm29.com)

Michael frowned at the link to _The Know-_ a popular sport, gaming and entertaining news forum he was fairly familiar with. He opened it and glanced at the article, eyebrows raising when he spotted the photo of he and Gavin in the park, beaming at each other plastered on the front page.

“Well… shit.”

Before he could reply to Ray insisting that _no_ he and Gavin were _not_ dating, his phone started ringing. Gavin’s name was flashing on the screen, accompanied by the extremely unattractive selfie he’d taken on Michael’s phone on their way back from the park, lighting up the dark room.

“Hey-”

“-Have you seen that bloody article?” Gavin asked immediately, clearly in too much haste to bother with pleasantries. Michael tensed.

“Uh, yeah, I was just looking at it…” Michael said. He wondered if Gavin would be mad. Considering that he was sort of liking the close friendship the two had formed so quickly, he certainly wasn’t looking to lose it because of stupid online gossip.

“Mental, isn’t it?” Gavin said with a care-free laugh, relaxing Michael immediately with his playful tone. “Honestly, I’ve only been in the country two minutes and I’m already national news. I _must_ be famous.”

“You’re such an egotistical asshole!” Michael teased. “It must be a pretty slow fucking news day if they’re reporting on your sorry ass.”

“ _Our_ sorry asses!” Gavin corrected with a giggle. “You’re not named or anything, but you’re there. Someone you know is definitely gonna see that and wonder what’s going on!” he laughed smugly. Michael rolled his eyes.

“Whatever, anyone who asks can suck a dick. You’re my friend- as long as we both know that, nobody else matters, right?”

“Right.” Gavin agreed. There was a brief pause, as if he was thinking over his next statement carefully. Michael crossed his legs and grabbed at his ankle in an unconscious display of nervousness.

“You know, Michael- I really like you. I’m glad we’re friends.” Gavin eventually said. Michael felt his chest contract slightly. “Y-yeah,” he spluttered. “I really like you too Gav. We make a good fucking… uh- team, or whatever.”

Gavin’s words were like smooth butter; Michael’s were like sandpaper. He couldn’t be smooth if he tried.

“Cool,” Gavin yawned. “Anyway, I’ve got to get to bed- I’ve got a game tomorrow.”

“I’ll be there.” Michael replied. “Get some rest, hopefully we’ll smash it.”

“Thanks boi, g’night”

The phone hung up quickly, but Michael found himself muttering, “Goodnight boi.” Quietly after it had.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“You _so_ have the hots for him.” Ray scoffed as the two made their way through a few levels on _Cloudberry Kingdom_. Michael rolled his eyes.

“And you have the hots for your boss- you don’t see me constantly reminding you about it.”

“At least Ryan and I actually bang in secret and risk our jobs. You and Gav just stare at each other and pretend to be friends.” Ray nudged Michael with his toe whilst simultaneously speeding ahead of him on screen. “Compared to us, you guys suck.”

“You won’t be saying that when you get fired.”

“I am a very valuable intern over at The Times. My sports articles are second to none.” He announced smugly. Michael rolled his eyes.

“Your sports articles are mediocre at best. Sucking off Ryan Haywood is the only reason you keep getting published.”

“That may be true.” Ray smirked. “But don’t change the subject. You have the hots for the captain of the soccer team and a little birdie tells me that he likes you back.”

Michael sat up stiffly. “What little birdie? Who told you that?”

Ray snorted. “Dude. You’re in way too deep.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Despite Ray’s accusations of not-so-friendly behaviour, Michael was having the time of his fucking life being Gavin’s friend. Being an athlete paid a ridiculous amount of money a week for kicking a ball around a pitch (not that Gavin would ever admit to it being that easy) meant that he had a sweet ass apartment filled with a thousand appliances that he didn’t know how to use- and Michael took great joy in being called up all hours of the day and night to check Gavin’s leaking sink or his busted light.

Occasionally, he wondered if Gavin would ever go as far as to break things on purpose to get him over, but then- that would be playing way too far into Ray’s stupid you-have-the-hots-for-each-other theory that _certainly_ wasn’t true.

It wasn’t like Gavin looked fucking _beautiful_ with his brightly coloured kit stained with dirt on a mud-filled pitch or even that he looked _cute_ curled up on his uncomfortable square couch in a t-shirt, boxer shorts and socks when he watched Michael play Halo because he was ‘too tired’ to participate.

(Gavin was a total badass at Halo, and Michael wondered if he took so many breaks just so he had a chance to win)

Michael was hanging around with Gavin and at his place so much that he didn’t even notice the way Ray’s things were gradually moving out of their shared apartment piece by piece, sock by sock, until he went to borrow a T-shirt from his friend’s room and found his closet almost completely barren.

It was Ray’s turn to be sheepish then, as he half-mumbled, half-admitted that he’d sort-of-maybe been talking with Ryan Haywood, his _boss_ about moving into his place. Things hadn’t gone well from there.

It was a lot of _“You hardly know him, Ray!”_ and _“I really really like him, Michael!”_ and other snarky remarks that quickly transpired into a full blown screaming match that ended bitterly with Ray storming out to stay at Ryan’s place and then, not long after, Michael storming out and heading to Gavin's because he couldn’t stand to sit in the apartment if it meant doing so alone.

He’d showed up at Gavin’s door, knuckles bleeding from punching a brick wall on his way to be greeted by a fairly untidy looking guy with a scrappy dark beard and tattoos covering his arms.

“Oh, Gav-” he called, barely glancing over Michael’s face for a second before turning back into the apartment. “Your boyfriend’s here.”

Gavin was halfway through muttering _what fucking boyfriend_ \- when he rounded the corner and saw Michael standing in his doorway, and his face softened immediately.

“Oh, Michael- love.” He said softly. “What’re you doing here?”

Geoff, who was apparently Geoff Ramsey- the team’s _manager_ , left pretty sharpish once Michael started muttering quietly about Ray and Gavin took him by hand into the shiny kitchen to clean his hand up. Michael had made a brief jab about Gavin ­ _shagging_ his manager, but Gavin had put _that_ to bed quickly, explaining that he and Geoff had known each other for a considerable few years.

“We go way back.” Gavin mumbled fondly as he brushed his fingers over Michael’s bandages softly. “Back to when I was a kid. Geoff was the first person to ever tell me I was any good. Gave me the confidence to get where I am today, and took me on when I wanted my career to step up to the next level.”

“You owe him a lot, huh?” Michael asked. Gavin shrugged.

“I suppose so. But, enough about me- you have to talk to Ray! He’s your best friend, and I know it’s scary to think you might be losing him, but if he really loves this bloke, you’ve got to let him go.” He sighed, giving Michael a small reassuring smile as he released his hand and pulled two cold beers from the fridge. “If you push him away now, you might not ever get him back.”

The beers hissed as Gavin twisted them open, but Michael didn’t reach forwards to take a drink. “You’re right, Gav.” He laughed, bitterly. “I don’t know how, but for once- you’re not being an idiot.”

“Oi!”

“I’ll talk to Ray in the morning when we’ve both cooled off.” He rolled his aching shoulders, realising for the first time how _tired_ he really had been feeling, sprinting between Gavin and Ray and work and games. Gavin, maybe even without realising, had taken over his life so easily- and he hadn’t noticed until he was bleeding in his kitchen at half past midnight.

“You can stay here tonight. I’ll make up the sofa, or-” Gavin stopped himself, taking another drink quickly enough to choke on his beer as he backed away into the archway.

“Or what?” Michael asked quietly.

“Or nothing.” Gavin looked away, out into the hallway. “I’ll take the couch. You can kip in my bed.”

“I don’t wanna put you out your bed man-”

“-It’s fine.” Gavin chugged the rest of his beer with barely a hiccup, wiping his mouth sloppily on the back of his hand. “Honestly, Michael. For you- it’s no problem.” He looked up then, grinning as a strand of his hair flopped over in front of his eyes. It was exactly the way he looked on televised footage of games, and on the front of magazines and on daytime TV Show interviews.

He looked beautiful. But he didn’t look _real._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thanks for reading this chapter. Next update will be 06/06!, hopefully I'll see you there! Kudos and Comments as always appreciated extremely.
> 
> Q: What do you think about Michael's feelings for Gavin? Similarly, what do you think Gavin feels for Michael? Do you think Ray was correct in his actions? What are your predictions for the next chapter?
> 
> And, if you liked this and would like to see more- check out the rest of my AO3 or HMU on tumblr; PAPERKS1N.tumblr.com


	4. HALFTIME

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an unfair game, Gavin finds himself out of service for a few weeks. Michael is the perfect company.

_Chapter Four_

 

 

Following Gavin’s advice, Michael called Ray up two days later. It was the same day of Gavin’s game, and what better way to make it up to his best friend than front row tickets, courtesy of the star player.

It would’ve been fairly difficult to navigate his way through an apology amidst a crowd of screaming fans, so before the game Ray agreed to go for lunch with him at the scummy pizza-pie place they used to attend frequently when they were still dirt poor off the backs of college and shitty part time jobs. The food wasn’t even that good, but the atmosphere of the building held so many memories between them, that it was nothing if not an obvious choice.

“I’m moving in with Ryan.” Ray sipped his drink. “I’m sorry Michael- I know I should’ve told you sooner, but I’m not changing my mind. I love him.”

Michael hung his head slightly, the garlic wafting from his pizza tickling his nose. “I know.” He nodded. “I know you really love him and I hope things work out. I should’ve have blown up at you like that.”

“Really?” Michael looked up, thankfully to see Ray grinning. “The Mighty Michael-Mogar-Jones, actually apologising? Fame really has changed you.”

“Still reading those stupid articles?” He glared at Ray’s phone, a photo of him leaving Gavin’s apartment plastered on a news article. _STILL IN DENIAL ABOUT GAVIN FREE’S SECRET BOYFRIEND? CHECK OUT THESE PHOTOS OF THE MYSTERY MAN LEAVING THE PLAYER’S APARTMENT IN THE EARLY HOURS OF THE MORNING TWO NIGHTS AGO._

Ray picked up his phone, and scrolled through with a wide grin. “Seriously, the internet’s blowing up about you. You’re big in Massachusetts.”

“Whatever.” Michael rolled his eyes. “As long as _I_ know I’m not Gavin’s secret boyfriend and you do- that’s all I fucking give a shit about.”

“But do I know?” Ray chewed at the doughy pizza crusts. “For all I know Michael, you guys’ve been doing it in the fucking bathroom we shared.”

Michael choked on his Pepsi, and glared at Ray across the table. His best friend only laughed through the bread in his mouth and gave an over exaggerated shrug.

“Fuck you.” Michael smiled. “Let’s head to the fucking game.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Unfair would be an understatement.

Michael and Ray were among other disgruntled _Bulls_ fans, shouting and swearing from the stands as the team of foreign giants dominated the pitch. There wasn’t a legitimate move in sight as the players snuck their way behind the referees back to kick, shove and worm their way between their players to shoot a few powerful balls into the net.

The team was shot. Gavin was the only player seemingly taking it all in his stride. Gavin wasn’t particularly big like the foreign lugs crowding him- but he was lanky enough to be streamline, gliding his way across the pitch with quick feet to slip the ball between the legs of the others. What they needed really, was a whole team of Gavin Frees, but even in Michael’s wildest dreams he knew that could never happen.

 _Eleven Gavin Frees_ , he wondered with a smirk as he watched his Gavin dart from the centre of the pitch to the opposing teams goal. _I wouldn’t mind that._

Ray was watching him, lips curled into a half formed smirk around some kind of dig as Michael’s embarrassing crush, but the words were ripped right from his chest when the beefiest soccer player on the grass blundered his way towards Gavin. To some it may have looked like he went straight for the ball, but Michael had watched enough YouTube clips of gruesome soccer injuries to catch an illegal slide-tackle when he saw one.

Gavin and the brute went down together, both rocking on their backs with their faces screwed up in pain as the whistle blew and the ref jogged over. Michael swore loudly with his hands clutched in fists, angry that the other team would sink so low. It was only when his eyes fixated on the big screen as the close up shots of Gavin’s face and the fresh tears running down it that he realised.

Only one of the downed players was exaggerating.

Michael’s heart raced as he watched Gavin on the pitch, writhing around in the bright green grass and clutching his ankle whilst shouting loudly. The paramedics were jogging their way over with a stretcher and a bag whilst the ref was angrily shouting with the previously downed opposing player, waving a red card in his face whilst the other players tried to hold him back. Only when Ray jerked away from him did Michael realise he had been clutching his best friend’s wrist with a death grip.

“Don’t worry.” Ray said to him quietly, eyed wide with concern. “Dude, he’ll be alright.”

Michael let out the breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding when the big screen switched to Geoff, shouting angrily onto the pitch as Gavin was quickly whisked away.

“You’re right.” He said to Ray, rubbing his hair and looking away. “He’ll be fine.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Michael practically sprinted from his bathroom to his cell phone, skin still damp and red from his hot shower. Gavin had an annoying habit of changing his personalised ringtone every time he got his hands on Michael’s phone, so when a distorted version of the Mario boss battle theme began to play, Michael knew it could only be one person.

“Gav!” he breathed heavily into the phone, clutching the towel around his waist. “You okay buddy?”

“I’m outside, buzz me in you twat.”

Michael raced to the door buzzer whilst simultaneously trying to pull a T-shirt over his bare chest. Then, he ran back into his bedroom to clothe the rest of his body before Gavin made his way up to the door. His skin was still damp under the green t-shirt and his chest was heaving like he’d just run a mile.

A swift knock came at the door- so for a moment Michael paused to get his breath back, catching eyes with himself in the hanging mirror. He rubbed at his hair pathetically, trying to tame it even slightly so he wouldn’t look like a complete psychopath when he opened the door, but after a few seconds he realised that it wasn’t going anywhere, thought _fuck it_ and reached forwards to open the door. He was met with Gavin’s grinning, douchebag face- thankfully completely unscathed and ruddy at the cheeks from the cold as he hobbled into the apartment with a cheerful _hello!_

His entire foot was encased in thick white plaster with a blue cast over the top, and tucked around his elbows were two long silver crutches. Michael couldn’t help but giggle.

Gavin whined, “Don’t laugh, Michael!” glaring as he limped into the tiny kitchenette and grabbed a few beers out of the fridge without asking. However, Gavin was a much better player than he was actor, and couldn’t keep up the pouty act for long- familiar smile stretching his lips as he hobbled back over to the counter and left the crutches abandoned against the wall.

“You’re so _mean_.” He exclaimed at the harsh laughter, rifling through Michael’s drawer for a bottle opener. “Just because I’m _disabled_ doesn’t mean you can laugh at me!”

“You’re not disabled.” Michael rolled his eyes, leaning over the counter to take his beer as Gavin opened it. “You twisted your fucking ankle.”

“I’m _temporarily_ disabled!”

“Bullshit. You made it here fine, didn’t you?”

Gavin could only pout in response, leaving the opener out on the counter and grabbing his beer before hopping over to Michael’s couch. He flopped onto the cushions ungracefully, beer foaming at the top and spilling down the neck from the excessive stirring. Gavin didn’t seem too concerned, sucking beer off the side of the bottle as Michael watched heatedly- before reaching over for the TV remote and flipping it over to a sports channel.

“Look, love!” he called. “I’m on telly.”

Thankful Gavin couldn’t see his blush, Michael took a hefty swallow of his beer. “Self-obsessed fuck.” He grunted. Gavin turned back briefly, and shot him a wide grin.

“You love me really. Now come on- I wanna see how badass I looked with my ankle all split in two!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“So how long till you can play?” Michael asked, hitting the top of Gavin’s fresh beer with the bottom of his so the foam rose and spilled over the neck. Gavin shouted and raced to encase his mouth over the bottle so the foam wouldn’t spill all over him, but with his weak gag reflex and the whiteness of the foam all Michael could imagine was Gavin choking over something very different.

“A couple weeks until I can start physio and training. Probably more than a month until I can play again. Asshole.” He glared at the television, where the player that had downed him was doing a press conference with the ASL about his four-match ban. “So I thought I’d come round here, you know.” He shrugged, looking back to Michael with a curious look in his eye. “Keep you company- what with Ray moving out and everything.”

Michael looked away from Gavin to the white spot on the wall that had been bothering him for the last few days. A framed poster that had come with Ray’s first Sega Genesis had hung there for all the years they’d lived together, but he’d taken it down when he packed up his things. Apparently, Ryan had the perfect place to hang it in his living room. When Gavin smiled at him supportively, Michael began to wonder just what it would take to replace something so sacred.

“Thought you might get a little lonely.” Gavin took a long sip of his drink, and looked to the floor. “You know. I do, sometimes I guess.”

The room fell silent as the space between them on the couch seemed to grow without them moving. Michael cleared his throat awkwardly and shot his eyes anywhere other than Gavin’s passively disheartened facial expression.

“Is that why you brought that?” He nodded as the big black backpack Gavin had dumped by his front door when he had hobbled his way into the apartment. Gavin nodded and the smile returned to his face.

“Yeah!” he exclaimed. “Thought I’d stay over. Like a proper little sleepover!”

The room fell silent again, but this time, Gavin didn’t look away. He smiled right at Michael, staring directly into his eyes and not daring to look away. Michael stared right back, until slowly, his lips curled and his smile grew too.

“Well.” He said, clinking his beer against Gavin’s gently. “I guess we should start _really_ drinking.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

A six pack of beers down and more than half of the bottle of whiskey Gavin had stolen from Geoff before making his way over, and the two had decided to give up on the blanket fort. They’d spent the best part of two to three hours constructing it as they drank as much as possible, the alcohol and their own joking around and teasing keeping them amused more than the shelter.

However, Gavin was a sleepy drunk when it came to whiskey and his eyes were drooping as he attempted to tug the sheet back over the edge of the couch, so Michael called it. He was far too drunk to attempt to make up the couch for he nor Gavin to sleep on. Besides- Gavin had to keep his leg as elevated as possible. A couch probably wasn’t going to do him much good- or so Michael told himself. Plus, Ray’s room was all the way on the other side of the apartment- and the abandoned bed didn’t even have sheets on it. No; that would take far too long.

That’s how they ended up sharing the bed. Michael’s heart was hammering even through his drunken state as Gavin tugged his jeans off his legs and around his cast, before climbing in on the left side. It was convenient, because Michael always slept on the right side.

It wasn’t even awkward, shockingly. There weren’t any whispered declarations of love or constructed pillow barriers like in all the movies he’d seen. Instead, the only sound was Gavin’s quiet snoring as he laid flat on his back beside Michael. Neither of them rolled over to _cuddle_ or anything quite as cheesy, but there was enough space on the bed for them both to lie comfortably with their upper arms pressed together.

Gavin’s arm was warm and Michael’s was cold. They sort of went together, actually.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Michael’s eyes peeled open when his alarm beeped at eleven AM.

He remembered beer, blankets, whiskey and Gavin’s snoring. The beer was probably why he felt hungry and the whiskey was probably why his head was sore. The faint snoring and failed blanket fort was _probably_ why Gavin Free was laid next to him, still asleep with his eyes resting in the crook of his elbow. Probably- not that Michael was hoping for anything else.

It was fine. They’d gotten far too drunk and shared a bed. No big deal.

It was tempting at first, but Michael decided against waking Gavin up. There was something so youthful and innocent that washed over his face as he slept comfortably, and Michael slowly felt his own hand reaching out on it’s own accord to touch the softness of his skin.

Thankfully, he was interrupted by the doorbell.

“Rise and shine, motherfuckers.”

Michael frowned at Geoff Ramsey, pushing his was into the apartment with a cardboard coffee holder in one hands and a _Dunkin’ Donuts_ bag in the other.

“Please.” He glared, tiredly and his voice was sarcastic. “Come on in. Make yourself at home.”

Geoff had already set the breakfast on his kitchenette counter and was rifling through his fridge until he found the lone beer left inside.

“Dude.” Michael mumbled. “It’s eleven AM. How can you even be thinking about beer right now?”

“Please.” Geoff opened the bottle and took a sip. “I’m old, kid. I can drink anytime, anywhere. Now where’s Gav? As his next of kin- I have to make sure he hasn’t died in his sleep from the painkillers- which he forgot and I brought with me, you’re welcome by the way.”

“Wait- painkillers?” Michael questioned. Geoff raised an eyebrow.

“Painkillers. For his fucked up ankle- duh.” He dug in his bag and waved a white plastic bottle around in the air before setting them down on the counter. “He takes two in the morning- and really if he isn’t drunk as a fucking dog- two at night. But then, my 12-year whiskey was missing when I came home last night so I assume he wasn’t really in the right frame of mind.”

“Wait- what?” Michael rubbed his eyes. “Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because he’s your puppy now.” Geoff scoffed. “Considering he’ll probably be staying here for a few days I want to make sure the kid doesn’t break his other ankle. The quicker he’s back on the pitch the better- now go,” he waved Michael off in the direction of his bedroom. “Go and fetch him- you know, get clothed and wipe the cum off his back.”

“Dude!” Michael blushed. “We’re just friends.”

“Sure.” Geoff scoffed. “Go and get him.”

It didn’t take much coaxing once Gavin heard that Geoff had brought his painkillers, and he was draped over Michael as he limped into the main room, brow furrowed and lips pouted from a deathly mix of hangover and painkiller withdrawal.

“It fucking _kills_ -”

“That’s what an almost broken bone feels like.” Geoff smirked. “Drink your coffee like daddy said and take your meds. I even got you kids some donuts because I was feeling generous.”

“Thanks Geoff.” Michael nodded so Gavin didn’t have to, sipping his coffee. “And we’ll replace the whiskey.”

“We will?” Gavin yawned. “You might be on your own there, love.”

“Yeah _love_ , don’t sweat it.” Geoff teased, and Michael blushed instantly. He hadn’t even really noted Gavin’s affectionate pet name for him until then. It just rolled off the brit’s tongue so easily that he hadn’t questioned it until then, Geoff souring it with his snarky expression. “Anyway,” Geoff finished off the rest of his beer. “I’ll leave you kids to… whatever it is you do together.” He winked, pointedly at Gavin who actually squirmed and sternly glared at Geoff. “I’ve got other player’s asses to kick. They all seem to think you’re the favourite.”

“I _am_ the favourite.” Gavin smiled. Geoff ruffled his hair.

“I suppose you are,” he said. “Take your meds and lay off the drinking so it stays that way.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The next night was more of the same. Michael watched in awe as Gavin got by on a deathly concoction of beers and painkillers alone, laughing and drinking and shouting well into the early hours of the morning as he struggled to keep up with his vibrant energy.

Gavin was like a fucking _lighthouse_. Night time was when he thrived and once again, Michael found himself laid out drunk besides the player in his bed. Once _again_ , in the morning, they smiled at each other and ate breakfast and lounged around for the rest of the day, not even thinking about leaving each other once.

The eighth night of Gavin’s residence, Ray came over for a visit. It was bizarre for Michael, the kid who had once been such a constant presence in the apartment to suddenly be a _visitor_. Ray- ringing the bell and asking to be buzzed into the building. Ray- knocking on the door with his stupid boss-boyfriend behind him with a friendly smile and a few hot boxes of pizza.

“Ryan!”

“Hi Gavin!”

“Oh what the fuck?!” Michael exclaimed, settling the pizza down on the countertop. “Now you two fucking know each other? Perfect.”

“Hard to run the most successful sports column in the country without bumping into this idiot a few times.” Ryan said with a fond smile, nudging Gavin with his shoulder. “Plus I’ve known Geoff for a long time.”

“Small world, isn’t it?” Gavin asked with a grin. Michael rolled his eyes and looked over to Ray, who was staring at the two with the most ridiculously loved up expression on his face as he leant on the kitchen counter. “Sure is.” Michael said quietly.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

They spent most of the evening adjacent in the living room- Ray sprawled over Ryan’s lap in the armchair whilst Michael and Gavin sat slightly more distanced from each other on the couch as the four battled each other in Mario party. Ray was fiercely competitive and Ryan whined a lot about Nintendo games not being _real_ games, but it didn’t stop the two from being sickeningly mushy- Ryan’s controller rested in Ray’s lap and Ray’s nose brushing against the scruff of Ryan’s beard when he had a spare minute to stare up at his boyfriend with a kind of love in his eyes that Michael had only ever seen reserved for his limited edition original Sega Genesis.

He looked over to Gavin, noticing how close they’d grown- figuratively and literally. Somehow, Gavin had crept across the couch as the game went on and they were sat in the middle together. Gavin had his back rested against Michael’s forearm with his bony legs hanging over the edge of the couch as he whined and laughed and squealed, and Michael couldn’t help but watch him with a similar intensity that Ryan watched Ray with when he thought the others weren’t looking.

Whatever that meant made him frighteningly nervous.

The night had quickly transcended into a _couple’s evening_ and Michael didn’t even have the heart to put a stop to much of anything when he realised how quickly he and Gavin had fallen into the couple role.

Neither said it out loud until they were several whiskeys in following Ray and Ryan’s exit, when Gavin laid back on the couch and poked Michael with the bony toes on his un-broken foot.

“What? Fuck off!” Michael laughed, grabbing Gavin by the ankle. They’d put a movie on but neither were bothering to watch, both much more content with teasing each other. Gavin stopped kicking but didn’t move his leg from Michael’s lap, and Michael didn’t stop himself from holding onto Gavin’s ankle until the player sat up with a small soft smile on his face.

“What?” Michael repeated.

“I don’t know.” Gavin’s nose wrinkled. “Just weird, init? How we’re so much like Ryan and Ray.”

“Are we?” Michael asked. Gavin shifted slightly closer and the two locked eyes hesitantly, fond smiles not leaving their faces.

“I don’t know.” Gavin shrugged, eyes opening and closing in slow, drunken blinks. Michael suddenly remembered how much whiskey they’d drank since the couple of the year had left and felt the familiar stirring of Dutch courage in his gut. “Maybe.” Gavin shrugged.

“We are.” Michael said, boldly. “We’re just like Ryan and Ray.”

Gavin said nothing after that but the small smile on his lips gave Michael all the answer he wanted. Bravely, he leaned forwards and pressed his lips against Gavin’s for a brief, perfect kiss until the player suddenly went stiff and hobbled away, darting across the room and into the spare bedroom.

Michael, in his drunken state, didn’t give himself much time to be worried before he curled up on the couch with the memory of Gavin’s lips on his and fell straight to sleep. When he woke up in the morning, Gavin, nor his crutches were anywhere to be seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Feel free to leave kudos, and let me know what you think in the comments below! 
> 
> Q: What do you think is going through Gavin's head? How do you think things will change from now between Michael and Gavin?


	5. FINAL SCORE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The End! ... ok. Maybe not the end. There might be a tiny baby epilogue one day

Chapter Five

 

 

 

Michael didn’t see nor hear a single word from Gavin Free for the entirety of the next three weeks.

Not that he was mad or anything. He wasn’t at all- not even the tiniest bit. He was completely fine with the whole situation. Sure, he and Gavin had kissed and _sure_ Gavin spent his first night over sleeping in the recently spare bedroom- but _whatever_ , right?

That’s what Michael told Ray at least. Ray sat opposite him over ice-cream sundae’s before the first soccer game since Gavin’s ankle had healed with the most disingenuous, disbelieving expression Michael had seen him pull since they’d both become self-aware two years ago of their worrying _My_ _Little_ _Pony_ habit.

“Not bothered at all.” Michael repeated for the third time, long after the conversation had ended and they were walking towards the stadium among the flock of fellow fans. Ray scoffed, again for the third time.

“Dude. Say it one more time and I might believe you.”

Michael frowned and muttered, “Shut up.”, before the two made their way together to their uncomfortable plastic seat and the game slowly rolled its way into beginning.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Due to his injury Gavin was only on the pitch for a half hour, before reluctantly the game took a brief pause and Geoff waved him over, Gavin tagging out with another player as the crowd cheered him on for his courageous antics. Michael looked longing down into the pitch but Gavin didn’t so much as look up from the bright green grass before disappearing down into the changing rooms.

“You okay?” Ray asked. Michael rolled his eyes.

“Yeah. It’s whatever.” He lied.

“If you’re sure-”

“-I’m sure Ray! For fuck’s sake, leave it alone!” Michael snapped. Ray said nothing, but the look in his eyes was enough. He knew- of course he knew, he and Michael had been best friends since they knew what best friends _were_. He could tell within a second just how much Michael had fallen for Gavin.

And just how heartbroken he was that the stupid asshole hadn’t even bothered to look up.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Michael wasn’t hurt. Michael didn’t _get_ hurt- period. This wasn't a movie, he wasn't going to sit at home and silently stew until Gavin appeared at his window with flowers and a boombox. Michael was _not,_ under any circumstances, hurt. It was no emotion other than pure rage that had led him to Gavin’s door with his fists clenched as he banged on the door and yelled Gavin’s name repeatedly until he finally heard from the other side-

“Alright, alright- I’m coming!”

Gavin opened the door, but only by a fraction. Half of his face was hidden, but the look in his eye was as afraid as a rabbit in front of a truck, full headlight beam.

He was quiet for a few tense seconds, and then swallowed thickly.

“Uh. Hi Michael.”

Michael gritted his teeth. “Let me in.”

Gavin nodded. “Right-o.”

He stepped backwards and Michael walked into the apartment. His first step was filled with anger- he was ready to turn around to Gavin and hit him with every flash of anger he held- but once he turned around and saw Gavin’s face again, he softened instantly.

“For fuck’s sake Gavin.” He sighed. “Why’d you fucking do this to me?”

Gavin looked to the floor. “Sorry” he said.

“Sorry?” Michael asked incredulously. “Sorry? That’s it- you fucking kiss me, leave, avoid me for nearly a _month_ and then what? You’re sorry? Cool. Fucking excellent Gavin- you’re fucking _sorry_.”

“Well I _am_!” Gavin shouted. “And if you hate me or whatever- fine. I completely understand-”

“-But I _don’t_ fucking hate you, do I?” Michael all but growled at the shrinking athlete in front of him. Somehow, Gavin had managed to almost curl himself up completely where he stood, hunched at the shoulders and cowering in front of the door. “Because for some stupid fucking reason- I fucking _like_ you.” Michael continued, the confession lurching from his mouth before he had a chance to hold it back. Suddenly, he couldn’t bear to look at Gavin- who was slowly straightening again- and stared away to the corner of the room. “I fucking like you.” He repeated quietly.

“Really?” Gavin asked, surprised. Michael looked back at him and frowned.

“Well duh.” He said. “Why else would I try to kiss you?”

“I-I dunno.” Gavin stammered, looking sheepish. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I guess I just thought that… I don’t know- it was dumb, and… yeah-”

“Spit it out already!” Michael snapped. Gavin blushed.

“I guess I thought that you just… wanted me because you were lonely. Ray left and when he came over with Ryan it… reminded you that you felt lonely. So you kissed me and I freaked out because I didn’t want to just… be used, I suppose. I thought that you were just… putting me in that gap. Others have.”

“Gavin.” Michael softened instantly. “Did you _really_ think I’d be that much of an asshole?”

He blushed. “I dunno. Maybe.” Michael couldn’t help but smile as Gavin sheepishly shrugged before him. “Just… I thought you’d get lonely all alone inside that big apartment.” He looked around his own home, and Michael began to wonder if all those nights he worried about Gavin being lonely were for something after all. “I know what it’s like to feel that way.” Gavin finished.

Michael couldn’t stop himself. He walked forwards quickly and pulled Gavin into a tight hug, which was thankfully received. “I’m sorry.” He said. “I shouldn’t have avoided you and stopped speaking to you. I should’ve just asked, and-”

“-It’s fine Gav.” Michael interrupted. “It’s done now. We’re cool.”

The two backed away from each other, Gavin’s flushed expression and measly grin mirrored on Michael’s own face. “And by the way,” Michael added. “I don’t get lonely now that Ray’s gone. Cause I got you- you’re my boi, right?”

“I am.” Gavin nodded. “We’re bois. Always.”

“Good.” Michael nodded, and a few seconds of awkward, yet comfortable silence passed between them until Michael found the strength in his limbs to reach out and take Gavin’s hand in his own. “Only… would it be cool for two bois to go out on a date together sometime, maybe?” he asked. Gavin grinned.

“Only if it’s alright to do this too-” he started, but it was too late to finish. Michael was done with being cheesy, and he certainly didn’t need Gavin to give him a movie moment. He was already with the new hot soccer player on the team. It couldn’t get much more cliché than that- so without much thought at all, he tugged Gavin by the hand towards him and pressed their lips together for the long awaited kiss he’d been so cruelly robbed of that night in his apartment.

Afterwards, Gavin grinned- before hiccuping loudly in his face.

“Perfect.” Michael laughed. “Fucking hell. Way to set the mood, Gav.”

“I’m sorry!” Gavin doubled over, releasing Michael’s hand and breaking into hysterics. “I bloody get hiccups when I’m nervous!”

“Is this the shit I’m going to have to deal with?”

Another hiccup. “Yes, love. All the time, actually. That and my terrible gag-reflex.”

“Fuck you.” Michael said, but with the width of the smile across his face and the way he reached out and grabbed Gavin’s hand again, they both knew for certain, exactly what he really meant.

**Author's Note:**

> I literally started writing this like 2 years ago, but it's finally here! Hope you enjoy! Please leave kudos/comments, updates on Sundays!


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